


I'm just an animal

by Queenofthebees



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Breast Fucking, Cousin Incest, Cumplay, Dark Jon Snow, Dirty Talk, Dom Jon Snow, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, Forced Masturbation, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon has always known his parentage, Loss of Virginity, Manipulation, Nipple Play, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Seduction, Spanking, Sub Sansa, Targaryen and wolfsblood make Jon a literal horny bastard, Vaginal Fingering, eventually, starts off as filthy revenge fucking though, using mirrors for kinks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-23 06:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13184367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenofthebees/pseuds/Queenofthebees
Summary: So prim and proper, he thought with a scowl. Sansa was Lady Catelyn’s pride and joy. She raised Sansa to be loyal to her, to be a proper Lady and not spend time with her Targayen bastard of a cousin. At least Sansa didn’t seem to want Jon dead, unlike Catelyn who Jon felt would have his head for sneezing at the wrong time.I’ll give her a good reason to want me dead. She thinks I’ll take Robb’s or Bran’s or Rickon’s claims, she never thought of how much of a threat I could be to Sansa’s claim.How he’d love to have sweet, proper Sansa writhe and keen beneath him, beg for his touch, beg for her own ruin. And he would ruin her, over and over, in every way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Long overdue anonymous tumblr prompt response lol. Prompt was 'it was never her sons' claims Catelyn should have worried about - a Targaryen Jon, fully aware of his parentage and victim of both Lyanna's wolf blood and the Targaryen blood, seduces and ruins Sansa in revenge against Catelyn's treatment of him. Absolute filth please!" They wanted absolute filth, they got it :p
> 
> For this, I went with canon divergence that Jon has always known and accepted his parentage and his Targaryen blood is more prominent as is his wolf blood hence a literal horny bastard :P. Lets not get too hung up on plot etc as this is mostly PWP. I just needed an excuse for Jon to be dark when he hasn't died. That darn Targaryen blood has its uses after all *shakes fist*
> 
> This is going to be dark and filthy, heed the tags, you have been warned.

Jon gritted his teeth as he continued hammering his sword into the sack body in front of him. Lady Catelyn had ordered him away from the feast, not wanting his presence to shame her visiting family. It didn’t matter that he was not Ned Stark’s bastard (at least as far as the Starks knew), he was still a bastard who was living under her roof and, as far as she was concerned, planning to steal her children’s’ rightful places.

He had no desire to take Robb’s place for he loved him dearly. He would never wish harm on Robb or Bran or Rickon that would lead to himself becoming Lord of Winterfell. The fact she could even think that he would want to take their claims away from them made him livid.

But Catelyn would never acknowledge anything good Jon did. If he won in a sparring match, she would glare but when Robb or Bran or Rickon beat each other, she would clap and congratulate each of them, even the one who lost, encouraging them to keep practicing. When Robb first wrote his name at four, Catelyn had pulled him onto her lap and kissed his cheek, whispering how proud she was of him. Jon had learned to write his name four weeks before and she had pretended not to have noticed. When Rickon brought Sansa flowers from the Godswood, Catelyn praised her son for his thoughtfulness even though Ned had said the Godswood was too sacred a place to pick flowers from. When Jon had supported Sansa’s wish to have a few extra lemons ordered for her one and two name day celebrations, despite her father saying it could not be justified with the finances being as they were, Catelyn had accused him of causing unnecessary drama between Sansa and her parents.

A laugh cut through his thoughts and he turned to see Sansa and Jeyne Poole crossing the courtyard, arms linked and heads bowed close together as they whispered. Jon frowned. Sansa was the image of her mother, a true beauty with her auburn hair and bright, wide blue eyes. Many Lords had already asked for her hand but Ned had insisted she was too young still, despite her four and ten name day passing days ago. Sansa at least acknowledged him, even if it was just the word ‘cousin’ as she passed him in the corridors but Sansa’s courtesies were merely just that as far as he was concerned. Still, at least she wasn’t outright cruel. Just a spoiled Princess, Catelyn’s precious Lady of a daughter.

Sansa looked over then, her auburn hair shining like copper in the torchlight. She stopped, causing Jeyne to look over and give him an accusatory stare.

“You should go inside Jon. It looks like we may have summer snows tonight,” Sansa said. Jon shrugged and turned away, returning to take his anger out on the dummy. He heard Sansa sigh before she urged Jeyne into the keep with her. Jon let his sword drop, looking in the direction his cousin had disappeared in.

So prim and proper, he thought with a scowl. Sansa was Lady Catelyn’s pride and joy. She raised Sansa to be loyal to her, to be a proper Lady and not spend time with her Targayen bastard of a cousin. At least Sansa didn’t seem to want Jon dead, unlike Catelyn who Jon felt would have his head for sneezing at the wrong time.

_I’ll give her a good reason to want me dead. She thinks I’ll take Robb’s or Bran’s or Rickon’s claims, she never thought of how much of a threat I could be to Sansa’s claim._

How he’d love to have sweet, proper Sansa writhe and keen beneath him, beg for his touch, beg for her own ruin. And he would ruin her, over and over, in every way.

Lady Catelyn would be so ashamed and that just seemed to make the image even more sweet. To see Catelyn’s face when she caught Jon buried balls deep inside Sansa, her precious Lady daughter begging for more of Jon’s fingers and cock. He reckoned it would almost be worth the beheading she would surely demand.

It would almost be too easy. Sansa craved romance and was so sweetly naive to the world, he could easily win her around and have her come to his bed. Her confusion as she discovered her feelings for him, her innocent curiosity as she caved in and told him that she needed him, that she wanted him. It would be so, so sweet.

He could hardly be blamed really though for the way he was thinking. He was thrice cursed after all. He had bastard blood, born of lust and a prisoner of desire. He had inherited the wolfs blood from Lyanna, harsh and unyielding when he had an idea in his head. And he had Targaryen blood in his veins too. Targaryens with their lust and love for family members.

Sansa wouldn’t stand a chance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon finally begins his seduction of Sansa.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah not really smut smut in this chapter. Buuuuuut Jon does get Sansa all hot and bothered, and uses a mirror for kinks and giggles. Hooray!  
> Lol I keep having to remind myself this is PWP, one part of me is screaming "But this makes no sense!" and the other is like "just bang already kids!" lol

He knew he had to get this just right.

Sansa could very well withdraw with confusion of his sudden interest in her life. They had never been close and if he were to suddenly act as though they were, she would tell someone that he was acting strange. She may even tell her father and mother about it and he would be watched day and night, his chance gone before he could even start. Jon had no doubt that Eddard Stark, as much as he loved Jon like a son, was afraid of his Targaryen blood and Lyanna’s wilfulness rearing its head. So far, Jon had managed to appear the dutiful, loyal bastard ‘son’ he was meant to play, under nobody’s suspicion except Lady Stark’s.

It would be frustrating for a while, especially when he thought of what he would do to her once she willingly came to his bed. But, Sansa was naïve and innocent, and could be seduced with the right approach.

He could wait a while, like a wolf going in for the kill.

***

He started by making sure he passed the sewing lessons every few days as they were finishing. He kept them random to avoid any sudden curiosity and he would ask if Sansa needed to be accompanied to her next destination. At first, Sansa had been hesitant to accompany him, fearing her mother would see them. But eventually, she had started to beam at him when he came passed the doors and popped his head inside.

He had read a couple of her favourite stories in the library, memorised them and then he would discuss them with her as they walked. When he first mentioned her favourite pairings from history or the books, her eyes had lit up.

He had pretended to be embarrassed, asked her if they could discuss such things privately to avoid the teasing from Robb and Theon. Sansa had bit her lip, hesitant with her approval. Jon waited, and when she said yes, that they could meet in the godswood, or perhaps even her chambers, he knew he was on the right track.

He started reading lines of the book to her as they sat in her rooms, her spread across her bed with her red hair fanned around her head as she sighed dreamily. He started off in the chair by the fire but as the weeks went by, he had started to sit by her in bed after she had given permission for such. He would touch her hair, her hand and pull away as quickly.

He was so close, he could see it in her eyes, in the way her cheeks heated up when he placed his hands on her. She was thinking about him, he knew it. Still, it wasn’t quite enough, she wasn’t begging for him yet.

He would have to wait just a tiny bit longer.

***

Northern Lords had been sending ravens for months, trying to match their daughters with Robb. Jon had listened to Robb talk about the matches, what he had heard about the women and what Jon thought of it all. He had asked Jon if he had any intention to marry to which Jon had snorted and denied such a notion.

When speaking with Robb, he felt guilty about he was planning to do with Sansa. Robb had never done Jon wrong, he was forever trying to defend Jon from Catelyn’s wrath. But whenever he started to doubt what he was doing, Lady Catelyn found another fault with something he had done and Jon, seething would storm to his chambers and take his cock in hand, thinking about how one day, he would have Sansa on her knees taking him, how he would bend her over the bed, the desk and fuck her like a wolf in heat.

Eddard Stark was holding a feast for the Northern lords to attend with their daughters, so Robb could meet them and perhaps come to show a liking to one. And as it happened, it ended up being the perfect opportunity for Jon to up his seduction of Sansa.

In his mind, he thanked Arya for her impulsiveness. She had taken Sansa’s dress and twirled around the room with it, pretending to be a fawning maiden. Sansa had yelled at her, chased her across the room and when she grabbed the dress, Arya’s fingers had been holding too tightly and the dress had ripped.

Sansa had screamed at her sister, tears pouring down her cheeks at her ruined dress, her favourite dress. Arya had apologised profusely, trying to ask what she could do to make it better but Sansa had thrown the ruined garment at her and told her to leave her alone.

When Arya had told Jon what she had done, Jon had assured her that Sansa would calm down eventually, that he knew she hadn’t meant to hurt her sister but perhaps she should let Sansa calm down for a while and apologise again later when she had had a chance to sort herself out.

He had then gone to Sansa’s chambers, finding her sitting on the bed with the dress over her lap and a hand over her eyes as she sobbed. She glanced up at him in surprise when he entered, harshly wiping her eyes as he looked at her.

“Are you alright?” he asked gently, moving to kneel before her. His hands brushed her thighs briefly, enough for it to appear accidental before he placed his palms on the bed on either side of her hips. She sniffed.

“You’ll take Arya’s side,” she muttered.

“I’m not taking any sides,” he replied, glancing at the dress. “Is it unfixable?”

“Yes!” she snapped, eyes blazing. Jon felt his hand clench in the covers. When she spoke like that to him, he was reminded just how very like her mother she could be. For a split second, he pictured her face down on the bed as he spanked her for her attitude. Gods, his patience was wearing thin now, the wolfsblood howling through his veins.

_Take her. Take her already!_

But Jon wanted her to desire her own ruin, wanted her to beg for her bastard cousin to ruin her first.

That didn’t mean he was just going to sit and stare at her though and wait. He knew he had to start touching her more, get her mind thinking about him in such a way. Over the time he has been spending with her, he has noticed her looks, the way she bites her lips. There is attraction there, whether she recognises it as such or not. It is enough for Jon to move on with his plans.

“You know,” he murmured softly, fingers tracing the material. “There are some places in Essos where the fashion is to wear dresses that reveal a breast, sometimes both.”

He had no idea if it were true or not. Sansa wouldn’t know either but more importantly, she wouldn’t check. She glanced at him, her cheeks turning a pretty pink colour. Jon smiled at the sight, wondering how often he would see her cheeks colour in such away before she would come to accept the fact she loved being treated so filthily.

He hoped her blushes would last a while. The thought of her shameful arousal as he did all manner of things to her was ridiculously appealing.

“I doubt that would go down well with father,” she replied after a moment, breaking Jon out of his thoughts to look at her. Jon hummed, a wolfish grin spreading across his face.

“It would no doubt bring a handsome Northern lord forward though,” he quipped. “All of them will be begging for your hand if they saw your lovely teats on display.”

“Jon!” she screeched, her whole face heating up in shock of his words. But Jon noticed she made no move to scramble away from him, made no indication that she would call for someone and tell them about what her bastard cousin was saying. He had to restrain his smile as he felt his lips twitch.

_I almost have her._

“I hope to find myself a lovely girl at the feast too. Perhaps I will be lucky enough to get a kiss,” he continued, moving to stand. Sansa blinked her wide blue eyes and he smirked, seeing the unspoken desire and question burning through the innocence of her stare. “Have you ever been kissed Sansa?”

She flushed, as he knew she would. She had never been left alone with a male long enough for them to steal a kiss from her.

“No,” she affirmed, glancing away.

“Hmmm, that is a pity,” he sighed and she looked at him again. So close, he almost has her. Just a little more pushing. “Perhaps we shouldn’t introduce you to any Lords yet then.”

“Why?” she questioned, her head tilting to the side in puzzlement.

_So innocent, Jon mused with mirth. She will be anything but when I’m through with her._

“Well, you’ll need to know how to kiss your Lord husband, won’t you?” he said casually.

“But how would I learn?” she asked.

“Practice I suppose,” he responded with a bored shrug. She stared at him and he could tell she was on the very edge of asking him. He could see the want in her eyes but the way she held back, those precious teachings of being a proper lady, being chaste and virginal were fighting to stop her.

He waited.

“I don’t know who I would practice with,” she said softly after a moment, her eyes darting down. “There is nobody I would trust not to run and tell father.”

He fell into the role easily enough, shifting guiltily as though the idea had just occurred to him and he hadn’t been planning for this for over two moons.

“I could teach you,” he whispered gently, watching her eyes widen, those full pink lips parting in a shuddering gasp. “I won’t tell anyone. You won’t tell either, will you?”

She shook her head slowly. She looked so vulnerable and curious, a sweet little thing that was his to take as he wished. He all but had her under his spell now, all that was left was push her towards the edge, make her beg for him to take her, make her his in every way.

He moved slowly, watching as her chest heaved from nerves. He wondered if her breasts were as milky and smooth as the rest of her skin, wondered if they were sensitive enough to have her writher from the slightest stroke. Gods, he couldn’t wait to find out just how sweetly Sansa Stark would sing for him as his fingers played with her body.

But for now, he had to pretend to not want this, had to make her come to him of her own free will. Least then, he would have a defence when Catelyn accused him of defiling her precious daughter. He would swear blind that Sansa begged for it and she wouldn’t be able to deny it. Oh, the look on Catelyn’s face when he would confess to all the things he will have done to Sansa by then. Sansa would be lucky to be sent to the Silent Sisters, he thought amusedly, though there would be absolutely no virtue of hers to save once he was through with her.

So, he gave a big sigh, pretending to hesitate as he sat beside her. He cupped her cheek, stroking the soft, hot flesh. His thumb dropped down, stroking her parted lips and he watched her eyes flutter close, that beautiful ivory skin turning pink once more. Jon smirked at the sight.

_She’ll be completely mine by the next moon._

He moved his thumb and pressed the briefest of pecks to her lips and then moved back. He watched her open her eyes and regard him with confusion.

“You’ve had your first kiss now,” he teased. Her frown only deepened.

“Is that all it is?” she asked and he loves the disappointment in her voice for it only reminds him of how innocent she is, how easy she will be to make his.

“No,” he replied huskily, tilting her chin up. “I’m just getting started sweetling.”

He pressed another closed lipped kiss to her mouth, still not intimate but enough pressure to have her curious. He moved back, chuckling darkly when her head moved forward to chase him. Her eyes opened wide when he placed a hand on her chest to stop her. He grinned at her horrified expression, no doubt she was internally berating herself for acting so forward.

He put her out of her misery, hand moving to her neck and bringing her forward to meet his mouth once more. But this time, he doesn’t hold back. He pulled on her bottom lip, her startled gasp sending his blood straight to his cock. He pressed his lips harder against hers, taking advantage of her surprise and slipping his tongue past her lips. She moaned, a low questioning sound but he heard it all the same, the same as he felt her hesitant fingers clutch at the hem of his tunic.

_She’s practically mine already._

He pulled back, relishing in her needy whimper and the way her eyes had darkened. He stared at her lips, swollen from his attentions and he thought of how lovely they will look around his cock when he finally gets her to do such a thing.

“I…I don’t…” she started, fingers tracing her lips as she blinked at him in confused, shameful arousal.

“We shouldn’t have,” he replied gently, standing. He paused at the door turning to her. “I am sorry Sansa. I should not have gotten so carried away.”

“No,” Sansa said immediately, letting her hand drop from her face as she looked over to him. “No, I…I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Did you like it?” he pressed, desperate to make her admit her desires, the way she is starting to feel towards him. He is desperate for her to be in his bed now, he hasn’t even been with anyone else in weeks as all he can think about is all the things he will do to her.

He thinks about her pleasuring him, sucking his cock until he cums down her throat, thinks of fucking her teats and spilling his seed across her and he thinks about what her cunt will feel like when he takes her maidenhead.

But he thinks about how sweet it will be to give her pleasure of her own too. He will focus on her first, play with her breasts, her cunt, her ass until she is moaning and begging, desperate to be taken and filled. He’ll spread her legs and devour her cunt with his own tongue and relish the sweet sounds of shameful arousal she will sing for him, relish how her cheeks will light up with her shame as she pleads for her release.

“Yes,” she whispered, biting her lip and looking away.

“I liked it too,” he said, making sure to look straight at her. “But we can’t Sansa, we _can’t._ ”

_But we will, we will._

“I know,” she shuddered, looking away from him as he went to open the door. He barely bites back the smile as she calls his name, turning to look at her. “Can I…can we dance tonight?”

He smiled, knowing Sansa would take it as a sign of his consent. But he was smiling because she had placed the final piece in place.

***

Lady Catelyn’s eyes are boring into him as he spins Sansa around. No doubt she is furious that Jon has apparently taken the only child who took her side away from her. Jon chances a glance at the high table, where Ned is talking to Lord Karstark, and Catelyn’s eyes are like ice upon him.

He curls his hand tighter around Sansa’s waist, bringing her back to him with such a force, she had to throw her arms out to grasp his shoulders in order to steady herself. She giggled at him, eyes bright with exhilaration, her chest heaving.

She had worn another dress, a silken silver one and Jon appreciates it. Not just for Stark colours and the fact Sansa suits such colours, no matter how much she tries to deny her Northern roots, but he likes it because it clings to her hips and pushes her breasts up. Her chest is heaving from the dance and he lets his hand drop to her hip, meeting her eyes.

They widened at the touch and she bit her lip, her fingers digging into his shoulders. He moved his hand up again, curling it under her breast and she shuddered. So easy, he thought with a barely contained smirk.

“I can’t stop thinking about earlier,” he whispered, trying to sound remorseful and guilty of such a thing. He heard her gasp, delights in the way she tried to avoid his eyes so that he can’t see, even though he already knows, she has been thinking about it too.

“Jon, we…we mustn’t,” she replied softly.

“I want to kiss you again,” he persisted, feeling her shiver before he spun her again, his hand grasping the small of her back as he pushed her against him once more. “Sansa, please. You’re driving me mad. Just one more kiss _, please_.”

She shuddered again, closing her eyes for a brief second before she opened them to meet his own, giving the barest of nods.

***

Sansa waits a while before declaring she is tired and going to bed. Jon waits a little longer, dancing with Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole before he too declared he was tired and going to bed.

She was sitting on her bed when he entered her chambers. She had changed into her shift, with a cloak over her shoulders and wrapped around her and Jon thanked the Old Gods that she just seemed to keep making this too damn easy for him to carry out without even knowing what she was doing.

He strode purposely towards her and she barely has a chance to open her mouth before he shoved his hands in her hair, tilting her head up to meet him and claimed her lips in a brutal kiss. She gasped at the force, allowing him to slip his tongue and caress her own, coaxing it to move. Her hands grab his shoulders for purchase.

He smirked against her lips when her breath hitched as he pressed forward, causing her to fall against the covers, her hair spread all around her and the cloak falling from her body. She broke away, eyes wide and dark and oh, they’re begging for him, he is so close, so close to winning this game.

“Jon,” she whimpered as his hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking her swollen lips.

“I don’t care anymore,” he growled and she was barely able to respond before he crushed his lips against hers again, relishing how her body arched in shock of his actions. His hands grasped her waist and he can feel the warmth of her skin beneath them.

“Jon!” she gasped as she broke the kiss again, blinking up at him.

“I don’t care anymore about what will happen,” he said again. Gods, she is so easy to win around. Pretty words of devotion and she is eating out of the palm of his hand. Sweet, naïve Sansa. The one thing he can thank Catelyn for is how easily he will make Sansa a desperately wanton creature thanks to her lessons of being obedient and her easily influenced mind.

“But…but we’re…”

“Cousins,” he interrupted. She bit her lip again and he smirked, dipping down to kiss her cheek and up to her ear. “Is it me being a bastard that bothers you?”

She shook her head but it was too fast and he knew she was feeling ashamed of how she was acting with him. And his bastard status was making her feel even more guilty.

“Bastards are sometimes the ones who bring the most pleasure,” he murmured against the shell of her ear and he felt her tremble, her breath catching and the way she flushed from her neck to her ears. He bit the earlobe gently. “Tell me honestly Sansa. Do you want me to touch you?”

She whimpered and he can feel her shake under his fingertips. But he knows he has her, even before her breathy consent reached his ears.

He moved quickly, rolling off of her and shifting to sit against the headboard. He pulled her up, sitting her in his lap with her back to his chest, her legs on either side of his own. He pressed kisses down her neck as his hands grasped the hem of her shift, pulling it up roughly. She squirmed as his knuckles brush her bare skin with the movement.

“I won’t take your maidenhead,” he whispered, letting the material fall back down.

_Not tonight, not yet._

She nodded breathlessly, letting him turn her head for another kiss as his other hand instead grasped her shift at her shoulder, pulling it down roughly until it is at her elbow, her perfect white breast bared to him at last. She mewled, shifting in his lap and her fight between her shame and her arousal is driving him mad He repeated the action with the other arm, effectively trapping her and leaving her at his mercy.

He cupped her breasts gently, relishing the weight of them in his palms. Sansa shivered in his arms, her own twisting slightly against the sleeves that trap them. He gives the mounds a gentle squeeze, his thumbs reaching out to stroke just around the nipple area but not close enough to touch.

“Ah, Jon?” Sansa questioned softly, her wide blue eyes glancing at him as he let his thumb roll over a nipple. She jerked, her fingers digging into his knees as her body arched towards the touch. Jon grinned against her shoulder, his other thumb moving to the other, running over the pebbling bud.

“Is it good?” he whispered as she gasped, biting her lip to stop herself making a noise. That won’t do at all, Jon thought with a frown, giving her nipples a hard pinch.

“Ah ah!” she moaned helplessly, her head falling back against his shoulder as he continued to play with her.

“You like this don’t you?” he said as he placed kisses against her shoulder, up her neck. “No, you love it. You love me touching you!”

“Nnn…no,” she groaned as her cheeks flushed that sweet pink shade.

“No?” he questioned lightly, his left hand continuing to pinch and roll her nipple and his right returning to the hem of her shift. He felt her tense.

“You said you wouldn’t!” she gasped, shivering. Jon kissed her cheek.

“I won’t,” he assured her, moving to bite her earlobe. “But I still want to touch it.”

She opened her mouth to say something, probably tell him it wasn’t proper. He doesn’t give her the chance, shoving his hand up the material and pressing his palm flat against the damp material of her smallclothes. He took a shuddering breath as he realised how wet she was.

“You’re soaking,” he whispered in her ear.

“I…I’m sorry,” she whined as Jon moved his fingers to the ties that kept her bare skin from his touch.

“No,” he groaned. “It is good. It means you want this. I told you, you _love_ me touching you Sansa. Let me touch you some more.”

“I…I don’t…” she started and Jon can’t afford for her to question this now. He pulled the ties of her smallclothes quickly, his fingers instantly seeking out her warm, wet cunt. His hand left her breast, grasping her left thigh tightly as he felt her jerk and try to close her legs as he ran his fingers across her lips.

His eyes catch her reflection in the mirror and he smirked, pressing another kiss to her cheek as he moved to sit on the edge of the bed. She blinked at him in confusion as he pulled her back into position on his lap, her legs dangling on either side of his own. Her whole face flushed as he rested a hand on her stomach, holding her against him as he parted his legs, spreading her own with the movement.

“Jon?” she questioned, looking at him in confusion, lips parting in confused pleasure as he let his fingers return to her sex.

“Watch,” he commanded gently, the hand on her stomach moving to turn her head to face the mirror. She shook her head, wide eyes looking at him again but Jon turned her head again, his fingers moving to find the spot he knew would have her writhing and moaning against him.

He stared at her in the mirror, watched as she succumbed to his touch and slowly met his eyes in the glass, her cheeks aflame with shame and desire. His fingers rub gently, slowly gathering the wetness that is starting to form. Sansa whimpered, her body jerking against the new sensations. Still he kept his eyes on her reflection, staring as his middle and third finger part her folds and bare her completely to him.

He could take her now, he knew. She was starting to fall under the spell of her pleasure and he knew if he told her he was going to lay her down and fuck her she would put up little protest. He could put his fingers inside her and fuck her that way, he thought. She would let him do that too, even if it might breach her maidenhead. But Jon refused to give into the wolfblood just yet, refused to rise to the need to fill her and claim her with his fingers.

His cock was going to be the first thing she ever felt inside of her.

“Jon? Jon!” she moaned, her hips beginning to rise to meet his movements as he placed all his fingers on her bundle of nerves, pressing harder. She arched, fingers digging helplessly into his breeches, her eyes darting between her reflection and to the wall as she realised how debauched she looked. even as her lessons of chastity and purity were still trying so hard to hold her back from letting go and embracing what he was doing to her.

“Don’t fight it,” he growled, feeling her body beginning to tense. “Think about how good it is, how good I’ll make it every time you let me touch you.”

She mewled, her back arching in a tight bow, her head thrown back as she cums on his fingers. Her eyes are dark when she looked at him and he loved how innocent she can still look after he had just spread her legs and made her watch him touch her.

He moved his fingers, pressing them against her lips. Sansa jerked away, frowning at him. Jon grinned.

“Don’t you want to taste yourself?” he asked lightly, taking a finger and popping it in his mouth, giving her a long moan. "Delicious."

She gasped, wide eyes staring at him as he removed them. And when he pressed his fingers against her mouth again, he could barely bite back a groan as she parted her lips and let him slip his fingers in her mouth. Her eyes darted to his and then away again as he started to move his fingers, a gentle in and out motion, imaging his cock sliding between those sweet, pink lips.

He pulled them out after a moment, wiping his fingers on his breeches as he stood up and looked down at her. She was a vision, he thought wickedly, spread out with her cunt and teats bared to him, her hair a mess on the sheets and sweat glistening on her chest.

And he was just getting started.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> REMINDER: This is a dark revenge/manipulation story (to start with). Jon IS a dick right now for what he plans to do. I have used my psychology undergrad to get the way manipulation and power play works and from Jon's POV it is meant to be dark etc. This may very well upset folk. Unfortunately, the minds of such people can be upsetting and that is sort of the point. Read the tags, read the notes and we can all have a happy day okay kiddos? :)

When Sansa came down for breakfast the next morning, Jon could barely hold the smirk on his face and had to raise his cup to his mouth in an attempt to do so. She looked exhausted and when her eyes caught his, she flushed and ducked her head down.

“Are you alright Sansa dear?” Catelyn asked, frowning at Sansa’s pink cheeks. Sansa nodded quickly, piling food upon her plate. Catelyn continued to stare at her daughter for a moment and Jon deliberately kept his head down before she could turn her gaze upon him.

Eventually, her mother looked away to discuss something with her husband. Jon glanced over to Sansa, smirking when she looked over to him at the same time and her cheeks flushed again. She picked up her bread, taking delicate bites and staring down at her plate. Jon shifted, stretching his right foot out to touch hers. Sansa squeaked, her chair scraping back in shock.

“Sansa, what is wrong?” Catelyn asked.

“N-n-nothing…I thought I felt a …a spider on my leg…” Sansa replied. Jon met her eyes again as he popped a bit of bacon in his mouth, his finger pushing past his lips and sucking the digit clean. He gave her a wink, knowing she was remembering sucking his fingers last night when they were still covered in the taste of her.

“I think I’m ill!” Sansa declared, standing quickly.

“You do look like you have a fever coming on,” Robb commented pityingly as he regarded her. “Would you like me to escort you back to your rooms?”

“I’ll manage!” Sansa answered, turning and departing the room quickly.

Jon took a long gulp of his drink, picking at his food idly until he supposed enough time had passed to excuse himself. 

“If Sansa is ill, do I still have to go to sewing lessons?” Arya asked.

“Of course you do,” Catelyn responded.

Arya huffed, her knife pushing her bread across her plate. Jon ruffled her hair, giving her an apologetic smile as he passed her, picking up Sansa’s abandoned piece of bread and pocketing it. Catelyn glared and Jon lowered his eyes in an attempt of looking shameful, leaving the hall.

He made his way quickly up to Sansa’s rooms, knocking urgently on her door. He grinned when she opened the door, her eyes wide when she saw him. He pressed a hand to her door, holding her gaze and she stepped back, letting him come in and close the door behind him.

He grabbed her hips, pulling her against him and slotting his mouth to hers, relishing in her moan, her hands desperately running across his shirt. She broke away suddenly with a gasp, blinking in shock of her reaction. Jon cupped her chin, leaning to claim her lips again but she turned away. Jon growled in his throat before he could stop himself.

“Jon, we have to be more careful!” she whispered, although she did nothing to stop him stepping forward, urging her back until her knees hit the bed, sending them sprawling on top of it.

His mouth found hers before she could protest again, his fingers grasping at her dress. As he grabbed the hem, hiking them up she wrenched her mouth away, her hands travelling down to grasp his wrists.

“Jon, mother will come and check on me at any moment!” she hissed, her words trailing into a gasp as he licked a trail up her neck, kissing along her jaw and up to her ear. She whimpered as he bit at the lobe, his hands grasping her hips through the material of her dress. Gods to take her now and have Catelyn enter the room to see her perfect daughter in such a state of disarray and lust. The sweet thought was going to serve him well tonight.

“I’ll come to you later, sweet girl,” he murmured, smirking as she shivered beneath him. Her eyes darted towards his, her cheeks a pretty pink and Jon grinned, thinking of how much he will make her blush when he comes to her later.

He has touched her sweet cunt, seen it bared to him but he has not yet tasted it and he was going to rectify that.

***

"Have you decided on a bride yet?" Theon asked Robb as he shot another arrow at the target.

Robb shook his head, arms folded across his chest as he watched his friend practice. Jon chuckled lightly and Robb frowned at him.

"What?"

"I'm just glad I don't have to deal with all of that," Jon replied with a shrug.

"Being a bastard has its perks after all then Snow?" Theon teased, smirking over his shoulder at him. Jon glared, opening his mouth to tell the older boy to fuck off. But then Theon glanced up at the balcony. Jon followed his gaze, seeing Beth Cassell and Jeyne Poole up above, watching them. When Robb looked up, Jeyne blushed and ducked her head down and Beth giggled as Theon grinned up at them.

“Ladies,” he drawled, dipping into a bow. 

“Is Sansa feeling better?” Robb asked, stepping back slightly in order to look at the girls better.

"Lady Catelyn just went to her rooms to check on her. She isn't to be disturbed for the rest of the day, so she can rest," Beth answered.

Jon continued with the practice session, ignoring Theon's taunts when the ward would hit the target every time whereas Jon was not so lucky. For years, Greyjoy's sneers had irked Jon to no end, souring his mood every time. But now, Jon cared little about the taunts. After all, he had seen Theon look at Sansa the way men always looked at a pretty girl. had heard him say to Robb that if he married Sansa they could be brothers. Theon liked to remind Jon of his bastard status, the fact that Theon was a true born son with more respect from Lady Catelyn than him. Now Jon just thought of how wet Sansa's cunt was beneath his fingers, the way her whole chest flushed at his attentions. The fact that Theon wanted Sansa so much, whatever the reasons, just made Jon think about how he was going to make her peak over and over later. He would have something that Theon never would. It was almost as good a motive as seeing Catelyn's horror.

Eventully, the practice session finished and after cleaning themselves in the hot springs, Jon dismissed himself. He rushed up to Sansa's chambers, careful not to get caught and rapped on the door three quick times. She opened it slowly, her eyes wide when she saw him.

"May I come in?" he asked gently.

She bit her lip, eyes darting briefly to the floor before she stepped aside. He waited for her to close the door softly behind her and then he moved quickly, his body pressing her back against the door as his hands came up to brace against the wood. He stared at her for a beat before his right hand left the door to stroke down her neck. He smirked as she tilted her head and shivered in submission and he moved to press a kiss beneath her hair and down her jawline.

“Sweet Sansa,” he mumbled against her skin as he descended down her neck, his hand now cupping her breast through her dress. "You taste so sweet darling."

He pulled the ties of her bodice, both hands now moving quickly to unlace them and shove the material aside to reveal her breasts to him. He grasped her waist, turning her so her back was to his front, his hands gripping the full flesh of her breasts. He wasted no time, his thumb and finger moving quickly against her nipples and rubbing them into hard peaks as Sansa moaned and her back arched, pressing her ass against his hardening cock.

“What did you tell your lady mother when she came to you?” he asked, giving her buds a sharp pull that made her whimper and her hands fly up to his. He pinched them again, grinning at how she responded with another whimper., her hands falling away slightly in surrender. The Gods were making this too easy, he thought with dark amusement. He gave her earlobe a warning nip. “Answer my question.”

“That I was feeling sick,” she gasped, her head falling back against his shoulder, her eyes closing as he removed his fingers from her nipples, instead stroking around the curves of her breasts.

“Sick?” he repeated with a small chuckle, squeezing her flesh under his hands. "Is that because you don't want this?"

She shook her head so hard, curls fell out of the braid she had worn. Her hands pressed against his own again, keeping his touch on her.

“I want you,” she whimpered. “I do. Please, Jon!”

“How do you want me Sansa?” he whispered, rutting his hips against her arse. She was almost there, almost on the edge of giving herself completely to him.

“I….I don’t know…” she mumbled, her eyes falling shut once more as he returned his fingers to her nipples. He bit back a sigh at the response. He still wanted her to say she wished for him to take her maidenhead. And he was a patient man even if his cock begged to differ, urging him to fuck her now.

“Well I have an idea,” he whispered, giving her ass a small pat and when she glanced at him, he raised his eyebrows towards the bed.

As she stepped away however, he grasped at her skirts suddenly realising the problem. When she glanced over her shoulder at him, he grinned, his hands pushing where the material bunched against her waist and until the skirts pooled at her feet.

He patted her again in reminder of his silent request. Sansa moved, glanvcing over her shoulder as Jon followed her.

"Lie back and spread your legs sweet girl," he commanded.

"Jon?" she questioned, hesitating at the edge of her bed.

He wrapped his arms around her, his left hand stroking up and down her stomach, his right traveling up to her breast once more. He rubbed his cheek against hers.

"I want to touch you," he whispered. "You liked it did you not?"

"I did," she sighed softly, tilting her head slightly, desperately seeking his mouth. He allowed a quick peck before he moved back.

"Can I try something else then?"

"What?" she asked turning in his arms.

"I want to kiss you," he murmured, grinning when she frowned.

"Very well," she answered, closing her eyes.

"No not here," he chuckled, his thumb stroking her lips. "Somewhere else."

"Where?" 

He grasped her hips gently, pushing her back onto her bed. He crawled on top of her, a hand pulling at the ties of her small clothes, tugging the material away. Her cheeks bloomed instantly as he looked at her.

"You will love this," he promised, watching her brows furrow as he shifted to lie on his stomach.

He smirked at her sharp inhale as he slid his hands beneath her thighs and spreading them wide.

"Jon, what...oh!" she gasped as his tongue swiped up the length of her.

She shifted slightly as he repeated the motion, as though the proper part of her nature was reminding her not to be wanton. He growled, hands pushing her legs up further, her cunt at the complete mercy of his tongue as he let it slide to the sensitive nub hidden at the top.

Sansa moaned, a hand pressed quickly to her mouth as if to stop the sound escaping again. The fingers of her other hand gripped the furs tightly as he pressed harder on the centre of her pleasure.

He could feel her thighs tightening beneath his fingers, could hear her breathy gasps and groans beneath her hand. He pulled off of her.

"You were so pretty when you peaked for me last night," he whispered, grinning as her flush spread over her neck and chest.  "I want to see it again."

He dived back down, tongue moving in harder and faster circles as Sansa's hips canted up to meet his mouth, her chest heaving as she started to tense beneath him.

He glanced up at her, her eyes closed and mouth parted as she panted. But as he continued his movements, her eyes flew open, a desperate gasp escapin her.

"Oh oh Jon....Jon.... I ... it...!" she trailed off with another high keen, her head tilting back and knuckles turning white with how hard she gripped the furs.

He retreated, watching her eyes widen as she looked at his wet lips. He grinned again, rearing up to kiss her slack mouth before she realised what he was doing.

"I could taste you all night," he murmured. "I think you would love that."

"But... it isn't proper," she mumbled, blushing once more.

"How so?" he teased. "Women are asked to do the equivalent for men often enough."

"Are... are they?" she asked, her eyes briefly glancing towards his breeches and then away again. His lips twitched as she deliberately looked away, biting her lip.

"What are you thinking about hmm?" he whispered, a finger tracing her lips slowly. She flushed her eyes darting to him and then away again. "Sansa?"

"I ... is it...how would I...?" she questioned, hand gesturing to his breeches.

"You want to do that?"

She bit her lip again before she gave a small nod. He inhaled sharply at the thought of his cock in Sansa's mouth. He hadn't thought to get anything from her this soon, had been prepared to spend time seducing her. He wasn't going to complain if she wanted to move things along though.

"Untie my breeches sweet girl," he commanded, lying down on his back beside her.

Her fingers trembled as she pulled at the laces, her eyes flickering between his face and her task. Once done, she looked at him expectantly, awaiting instruction.

He reached to shove the clothing down his legs, watching her blink at the sight of his cock. He reached for her hand, curling it around the base of him. He kept his hand on hers as he guided it up and down a few times.

"It... I didn't think it would feel like that," she said, staring between his legs. She glanced up. "Do I put my mouth on you now?"

"Yes, not too much though," he replied. "Just take this bit first."

He gripped his cock as Sansa parted her lips, het eyes looking up once more before the head of his cock was engulfed in the wet heat of her mouth.

"Good girl," he cooed. "Now slide your tongue ov...yes!" he groaned as her tongue moved along the length of what was in her mouth.

He licked his lips as he hiked himself up to watch her. She was clumsy, as any first timer was bound to be. But she was eager to please, he thought, barely biting back a grin. He would teach her to suck his cock properly soon enough.

For now though, he was happy taking he slow path to release as he slid a hand in her hair and guided her into a gentle rhythm. He relished  the way her eyes kept flickering up to his face, seeking approval as she worked. And when he told her how good it felt, how good she was, her eyes slid closed as though genuinely pleased at his praise.

She attempted to take more of him but she ended up choking and rearing off of him, spluttering and coughing. She stared at him wide-eyed.

"I...I'm sorry!" she whispered.

"Don't worry, it was good," he assured her. "It takes practice."

"What...what should I do now?" she asked, glancing at his cock again.

"I can finish myself in my chambers," he replied and seeing her crestfallen expression he quickly followed up. "I don't want to scare you off. Doing such a thing for a man for the first time is overwhelming. I'll see you tomorrow."

In truth, he had briefly thought of finishing himself off and spilling across her breasts as he often thought when he took himself in hand. But Sansa was still so nervous and innocent about all of this. He had to let her set the pace to keep her near and curious enough to pursue him without scaring her. She might run if she were to see his seed on her or if he had finished in her mouth.

Until she surrendered her maidenhead to him, he would have to wait for such sweet treats.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breast fucking, dream sex (sort of) anal play (a little in the dream) an angry Sansa and an increasingly confused Jon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember I said Sansa was not going to be a totally meek case ;)

 

He never grew tired of the little desperate sounds Sansa made when he touched her. How she tried hard to keep quiet, knowing a lady shouldn’t enjoy such things, but unable to stop herself as he plucked and pulled at her spots like a musician with an instrument.

“I love your teats, sweet girl,” he mumbled into her neck as his hands continued to squeeze her breasts, his thumbs brushing slowly across her nipples, making her shiver against him. “I think you like me playing with them too. Do you Sansa? Do you like your bastard cousin touching you?”

“Yes,” she whimpered, her hands pressing flat on his clothed thighs as she arched her back, pushing her breasts further into his hands.

“Would you let me fuck them?” he murmured, moving to nip her ear as he whispered his filthy requests to her. She gasped, her skin flushing from her chest to her hair. Jon grinned at the display, the ultimate sign of her innocence and how he was responsible for taking it all.

“Jon…” she sighed, gasping as he gave her nipples another quick pinch. “What…how would…oh!”

Her head fell back against his shoulder, her eyes fluttering closed as his hand snaked between her legs, seeking out the bundle of nerves that made her fall apart. She bucked up against him as he pressed his fingers to the little nub, rubbing in small, teasing circles while his other hand continued playing with her breast.

“Will you let me?”

She opened her eyes halfway to meet his, her teeth digging into her lip as she wavered. It felt like an eternity before she nodded slowly, a whispered “yes” following.

Jon pressed a kiss to her forehead as he removed his hands, grinning at the soft protesting whine she gave.

“Lie back,” he commanded as he stood and untied his breeches.

Sansa licked her lips as her eyes drove down his body and Jon groaned under his breath as his cock twitched at her attention. Sansa really didn’t realise how her innocent gestures made her all the more endearing.

He climbed back on the bed, slotting his mouth against hers. He moaned as she parted her lips to him, her fingers burying in his hair, sliding her tongue against his own as he positioned himself more comfortably above her.

He pulled back, his eyes raking over her naked form as she blinked up at him, her lips swollen from his kiss and her cheeks still stained a pretty pink. He groaned, his hand stroking up her side, revealing in her soft skin.

She arched beneath him, her eyelashes fluttering as she moaned softly at his touch. She truly was beautiful, he thought, his lust as much a drive for his actions as his hate for her mother. She opened her eyes again, dark and begging and Jon was leaning down to kiss her again before he could think to do anything else.

“Are you going to…?” she murmured against his lips. Jon’s breath hitched at her sweet tone, his cock twitching against her thigh.

He sat back on his heels, his hand reaching down to tug on his length. She followed his movement, her eyes wide as she watched him stroke himself into hardness, the tip beginning to leak. She licked her lips, the sight causing Jon to pause and clench his eyes shut.

“Don’t do that,” he growled, opening his eyes again. She blinked, a small smile curving across her lips.

“Why not?” she whispered. “Would you change your mind about where to put it?”

_You little minx!_

He laughed despite himself, smiling at the soft giggle that Sansa in turn responded with. He moved over her again. He raised his hand to cup her cheek, his thumb moving to trace the shape of her lips, his eyes dropping to follow the movement.

“I do love your mouth on me,” he admitted, grinning as he felt her breath hitch. “But I love your teats too. And I want to try this with you.”

He moved once more, his legs bracketing her ribs as he hovered over her. She giggled again as he slid his cock between her breasts, her eyes wide and curious.

“Push them together,” he murmured, raising her hands and pressing them against her breasts.

Her blush spread all across her face and down to her chest as Jon started to rut against her skin, the softness of her skin driving his own desire. His eyes dropped slightly to watch him move against her, his precum glistening in the dim torchlight and Jon growled at the sight.

_It’s like I’m marking her._

His hips jerked as he spilled, just having the wits to move back enough to allow his seed to splash across her chest and stomach. She gasped as it hit her, her eyes blinking down at the sight and her cheeks growing darker as she raised her wide eyes back to him.

Jon panted at the sight, moving to press his mouth to hers in a forceful, desperate kiss.

“That was amazing sweet girl,” he murmured, kissing her again before moving back onto his heels once again, his eyes roving across her marked skin.

He reached out, his finger trailing through his seed, spreading it across her breasts even more. Her chest heaved as she watched him silently. He smiled as he placed the finger against her lips and she parted them instantly, her eyes closing as she sucked against the digit.

He removed his finger, feeling his cock stir once more. If he continued, he was going to find it hard to resist seducing her fully. He has thought about little else for days.

“I should go back to my chambers,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She nodded, raising herself from her arms and moving to the wash basin. He watched as she washed the evidence of his visit from her. He smirked as he imagined Catelyn bursting through the door right now, seeing him lying naked on Sansa’s bed while her perfect little daughter washed his seed from the breasts he had fucked.

He pushed himself up and wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing a kiss to her forehead as he wished her goodnight. She smiled shyly at his affection, reaching to cup his cheek before pressing a kiss there.

Jon stared for a moment, unsure of how to process the action. He hoped the smile he gave her wasn’t more of a grimace from his confusion as he bid her goodnight once more and left.

***

He growled as he slammed the door shut, running his hand through his hair.

Everything had been going just fine, he seethed, glaring around his chambers as though they had been responsible for his foul mood. He had more or less seduced Sansa, had her coming to him almost every night for him to touch her, to taste her.

But instead of accepting his kiss, or following his silent instruction to the bed, she had turned and picked up the black material that had been draped around her sewing chair, handing it to him with a soft, giddy smile.

When he had realised it was a linen shirt, and she had taken the time to stitch both a direwolf and dragon upon it, he had frozen. And when she had touched his arm, asking him if it was alright he had tossed the shirt back at her and ran back to his own chambers.

He pressed his palms to his eyes, his teeth bared in his anger at Sansa, at himself.

“It is just a shirt,” he muttered, taking another deep breath as he lowered his hands. He turned, opening the door and quickly making his way back to Sansa’s chambers.

He grimaced as he heard her soft sobbing, his hands rising to rap three sharp knocks on the door. She continued to sob on the other side, not even acknowledging that she had a visitor. He knocked again, more furious, hard knocks that rattled the wood. But still she did not stir.

He reached for the door handle, pulling it down and growling when the door didn’t budge. She had locked him out, he realised dumbly, baring his teeth at the door. He slammed his palm against it over and over.

“Sansa, open this door to me right now!”

“Go away!” she snapped.

“I swear I will break it down if you don’t let me in!”

He withdrew his hand as he heard the soft rustling of fabric, likely her dress sliding across the stone floor. And then he heard the heavy slide of the bar being removed but the door remained closed, she wouldn’t open it for him it would seem.

Jon shoved at the wood roughly, storming into her chambers and tossing the door shut behind him. Sansa barely flinched. She stood with her back to him, staring into the flames of her fire, her arms wrapped around her waist.

The shirt she had made was nowhere to be seen.

“You locked your door on me,” he growled, striding up to her and pulling on her shoulder to get her to face him.

“Apologies,” she simpered sarcastically, dipping into an exaggerated curtsy. “I didn’t think you would want to see me anymore. You clearly want one thing from me Jon. I thought you cared about me!”

“I do,” he snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I do!” he repeated at her raised eyebrow. “You’re pretty and sweet and...”

“And I have a virgin cunt,” she added, smirking as Jon’s jaw dropped at her language. “That is what you want isn’t it Jon? I thought you wanted _me_ but I was just to be another conquest to you!”

He scowled towards the fire, annoyance and shame flooding him. Because she was both right and wrong. He _had_ meant to ruin her for his own selfish desire of revenge, but she was merely thinking he craved her maidenhead for a trophy. If she knew the whole truth, she would hate him so much more.

“You should leave,” she said, turning away from him once more. “Leave before I summon my mother and tell her she was right about you.”

Jon growled, the thought of Catelyn here and judging him sending white rage through his veins. He reached for her again, turning her and using his whole body to push her back against the wall, his hand cradling the back of her head from the stone.

“I want your maidenhead aye, I won’t lie about that,” he murmured. “But don’t pretend you didn’t love everything I have done to you, that you haven’t thought about all the things I still plan to do to you. You can run to your mother all you like, tell her that your bastard of a cousin is even worse than she imagined. Tell her if you want. But I will tell her that you were begging for it, or at least you managed to beg for it when my cock wasn’t filling your mouth!”

She snarled, teeth bared as she glared at him. She wrenched a hand away from the wall, her palm colliding with his cheek with such a force it sent him stumbling backwards and left him blinking in shock.

“Get out!” she screeched, pointing to the door. “I will scream Jon, I swear!”

“I came to apologise about upsetting you about that stupid shirt,” he snapped, gesturing wildly around the room as if to conjure the damn garment. “I felt bad that I had upset you because I was too overwhelmed by the fact you had done something so nice for me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry my genuine affectionate feelings made you feel guilty about seducing me,” she grumbled, shaking her head and though she was turned away again, he bet she had rolled her eyes as well. “Leave Jon, I won’t ask again.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair once more and casting a look at the door before he made his way out of the room. He paused, a hand lingering on the door’s edge as he glanced back at her but she made no move to acknowledge him as he slipped back into the corridor.

***

_He noticed the sept was empty but for the three of them._

_Sansa was standing at the alter, wearing a dress of ivory and a grey cloak on her back., the direwolf taunting him. Standing beside her was a man Jon didn’t know, a blonde man, tall and handsome with a charming smile. He looked every inch a prince as he stood, smirking at the prize beside him, the rose of Winterfell._

_Sansa was sobbing._

_“You won’t have her,” Jon snarled, shoving the man aside and watching as he disappeared in a puff of smoke._

_Sansa barely got her gasp of surprise out before he turned, hands fisting in her hair and pulling her towards him. His lips crashed upon her, biting and licking her own until she gripped his shoulders, her body surrendering to his assault._

_Surrendering to her mate, her alpha wolf._

_“Mine,” he growled against her lips before turning her around, her back to his chest and pushing his hips against her arse as he moved backwards until his back hit the wall where the maiden’s face looked down upon them._

_Sansa shivered as his hands reach the front of her dress, tearing it aside. His hands grasped her breasts, fingers pinching her nipples into hardness until she was nothing but a pliant, trembling mess in his arms._

_And then, she was upon her back with his hands holding her behind her knees to keep her legs up and spread wide as he feasted upon her. She was fully naked now, flushing pink as her wide eyes looked up at the maiden’s face above her._

_“I will take you right here,” he murmured._

_And he did._

_He howled at the feeling of her cunt around him, the tight, wet heat of her. She mewled as he filled her, lips parted and eyes wide as he grinned down at her until something made him look back and his grin widened as Catelyn stood, horrified in the doorway._

_He pulled out of Sansa and brought her to her knees, pulling her hair to look upon her mother’s face as he slowly pushed himself back inside of her, smirking at the way her eyelashes fluttered, her breath hitched as she gasped his name._

_“Your daughter loves my bastard cock, my lady,” he whispered, rocking his hips in slow, gentle circles that made Sansa gasp and arch and keen._

_Catelyn was screaming at him, tears pouring down her cheeks as Sansa started chanting his name over and over, her cheeks flushing as he tells her to beg for it, to beg for his cock to fill her faster and harder, tells her to push back and fuck herself upon him._

_“Shall I spill inside of her?” he taunted. Sansa nodded frantically, pushing back against him as she cried out how much she wanted him to spill inside of her. “Shall I put a bastard in her?”_

_“Yes, yes yes!” Sansa moaned._

_“I’ll kill you!” Catelyn screamed. Jon shrugged, bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking it softly. He smirked at her as he moved his arm down, until the finger was rubbing up and down the cleft of Sansa’s ass._

_“Aye,” Jon shrugged as he found the puckered entrance and pushed the tip of his finger inside. Sansa gasped, her entire body trembling with the sudden climax. Jon held Catelyn’s gaze. “But I’ll enjoy her for now.”_

_He tugged Sansa’s hair, pulling her up until her back is to his chest, his free arm curled around her stomach, keeping her held firm against him as he continued to thrust up into her._

_“And she will love it as well.”_

_The dream shifted again. Sansa was sitting upon her bed, head tilting back against a pale shoulder, her mouth parted._

_Jon growled, trying to move towards the bed. For the man behind her was not him._

_She looked at him then, blue eyes cold and clear and beautiful._

_“You could have had me, all of me,” she whispered, moaning as the man traced kisses up her neck._

_“Sansa, stop,” he begged, his voice high and needy as he willed his legs to move, to throw the man aside and take her again, make her know that she is his and he is hers. He cannot move though and only his mouth seems capable of working._

_“Sansa, please. I know this isn’t what you want. This is not who you want. You belong with me! I know that is true!”_

_She blinked slowly, her lips curving up into a smile as her hand reached back and curled into the man’s blonde hair._

_“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”_

He gasped as he shot awake, glancing around the room as though he expected to find himself in the sept or Sansa’s room rather than his own chambers. His chest was heaving, the images still so vivid in his mind as he pushed a hand through his hair.

He grimaced flopping back into the pillows and staring up at the canopy as he tried to make sense of the dream.

The explicitness was no surprise. Lately, he had been dreaming of Sansa in such ways, of seeing her writhing beneath him as he feasted on her skin, of hearing her moan as he moved inside of her.

But the possessiveness, which still lingered in his chest even now, that was a new feeling.This increasing need to be around her, his appreciation of her attractiveness was all new sensations.

He swallowed thickly, licking his dry lips as he waited for his heart to slow down before he rose and started to get ready for the day.

***

He didn’t get a chance to spend time with Sansa all day. Since their fight and his dream last night, he had a frantic need to be near her, to touch her again and again.

But as if sensing his uncontrollable desperation, the people around him seemed to keep him from getting anywhere near her. Catelyn had decided to sit with her daughters in their sewing classes, her eyes boring through him when he had peered into the room. He caught Arya’s eye roll and had to bite his lip as he retreated.

Ned had then found him, telling him that he should come hawking with Robb and himself. And so, Jon had spent the afternoon in the Wolfswood, even more silent and brooding than usual as his father and Robb chatted away.

Arya had then begged him to practice swords with her when they returned. He never could refuse her anything so had met her in the courtyard. She had kept him busy for the rest if the afternoon until Ned had come and told them to clean up for dinner.

Sansa had been sitting on the other end of the table, next to her mother. And she barely glanced his way, instead determinedly chatting to her mother and Jeyne Poole, leaving Jon scowling into his bowl of broth.

He had hoped to sneak to her chambers after but Robb had cornered him as he came out of his chambers.

“Can I speak with you?”

“Now?” Jon asked before he could stop himself, glancing along the corridor.

“Please,” Robb said and it was the desperate tone that made Jon look back to him and step aside.

He gestured to his bed and Robb strode across the room, sitting on the edge and pressing his hands together under his nose. Jon closed the door and slowly made his way to sit next to him.

“Father keeps asking me to make a decision about a bride,” Robb stated after a moment.

“Is there any that you liked?” Jon asked and grinned as Robb’s face flushed. He nudged his cousin’s shoulder expectantly.

“I…um…Dacey was nice…”

“Mormont?” Jon replied, barely able to stop the laugh tumbling from his lips. Robb glared at him.

“What?” he snapped and Jon pressed his lips together in an attempt to control himself.

“Just… she would eat you alive,” Jon snorted.

“Well at least one of us would be doing something then,” Robb sighed. Jon raised an eyebrow.

“You haven’t…ever?”

“You have?” Robb asked, turning his wide eyes to him.

“A few, yeah,” Jon replied with a shrug. Robb blinked repeatedly for a moment.

“How did I never know about this?”

“I am pretty discreet,” Jon said, shrugging again. “I don’t think your mother would have approved.”

“So…um…how is it?”

Jon almost told Robb exactly how good a woman’s cunt feels and tastes. But then he remembered his dream, how he has been touching and seducing Sansa and he felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dropped upon him.

For if Robb were to marry, Ned would then turn his attention to possible suitors for Sansa’s hand. She would be taken from the North, from _him_. The thought made him growl, that possessive feeling thundering through his chest once more as he leapt to his feet.

“I need to go,” Jon gasped, racing for the door before Robb can even ask what was happening.

He tore around the corner, skidding to a stop outside Sansa’s door and pounding on it like a man possessed until he heard the slow slide of the bar and then Sansa’s wide eyes peering through the gap as she opened the door.

“Jon, what…?”

He pushed the door open, slamming it shut behind him before he grabbed her, pulling her flush against him and slotting his mouth to hers. For a brief second, she sagged in his arms, a soft moan escaping her as his hands ran through her hair, pressing her harder against him as he slid his tongue past his lips.

And then she tensed, her hands pressing on his shoulders and shoving him away. She ran her arm across her lips, glaring at him.

“What in seven hells do you think you are…?”

“I’m sorry!” he interrupted, his hands grasping her shoulders and desperately holding on to her. “Sansa, I’m sorry I hurt you.”

He had been selfish, he knew. And part of him still got a thrill in knowing how horrified Catelyn would be if she were to ever find out what Jon had done to Sansa, what he planned to do with her. But he hadn’t thought about the repercussions that Sansa would face. And in truth, while Sansa could be cold with him sometimes, she had never been outright cruel, had never wished him gone from the castle or her life. And he didn’t truly want her to suffer the shame.

And yet, he did still want her for herself, perhaps even more than his revenge. She was a beauty after all, her innocence was a sirens call. And her skin was soft beneath his fingers, her cunt tasted divine. He didn’t think he could give her up even if he had wanted to end this game.

He trailed one hand down her left arm, his other reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. She blinked at him, her brows furrowed in suspicion.

“Sansa, I want you,” he murmured. “I want you for more than your maidenhead. I think about you constantly. Perhaps it was selfish to begin with but now, now I can barely breathe without the thought of you, without imaging you beneath me and the taste of your skin. I won’t touch you again if you truly don’t want me to.”

She swallowed, her eyes slowly rising to meet his and then she shook her head slowly.

“I still want you to,” she whispered, ducking her head down and shaking it again. “I know I shouldn’t but I do.”

He tilted her chin up, sliding his mouth against hers but she turned away again, her eyes narrowing upon him as she stepped back, out of his reach.

“You truly want me Jon?” she asked, her gaze flickering across his face as though she could read his thoughts.

“Yes,” he replied instantly, his own eyes dropping to where her breasts heaved against the tight bodice of her dress.

“Prove it,” she said, folding her arms and raising her eyebrows at him. Jon blinked, feeling his brows knit together in confusion.

“Prove it?” he echoed. Sansa gave one firm nod.

“Ask father for my hand.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol we all know Ned will never let it happen. Sansa is just testing Jon :p


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon's manipulative side starts to show.  
> Questionable consent I guess because Jon is manipulating Sansa's pleasure etc...  
> Spanking and dirty talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Oreoswirl, who asked for this months ago when she donated to the Jonsa fundraiser.  
> The next chapter is 600 words in and I hope to have it finished before New Year to make up for the wait, but we'll see what life throws :)

Jon had remained sullen for days after Sansa’s demand.

He wasn’t opposed to marrying Sansa really. She was a beautiful young woman, and he had become addicted to the sounds of her pleasure enough to want him to be the only man to ever want to hear such things. The thought that Catelyn might die on the spot at the news also filled him with dark amusement.

But Sansa was a naïve girl sometimes too. It had been an advantage in his plan of course, but he regretted letting her think they could ever be more than secret lovers. The world still believed him to be her brother after all, and even if he was known to be her cousin, he was still a bastard and unworthy of her hand.

Yet, although he had started off with intentional deception of Sansa as revenge, he had come to care for her more than he had ever anticipated. And he had meant it when he had said he wanted her for more than her maidenhead, no matter how hopeless it seemed.

After countless sleepless nights mulling it over, he had returned to Sansa’s chambers. She had smiled sweetly when she had opened the door before returning to her mirror, her brush soon sliding through her soft locks.

“Sansa, there must be another way to prove my feelings,” he said.

“I can’t give my maidenhead to anyone but my husband Jon,” she replied simply, not even looking at him in the mirror.

Jon growled, crossing the floor and yanking the brush out of her hands. “Are you thinking of marrying someone else, Sansa?”

“No, I only meant…”

“You’re not marrying anyone else,” he cut her off, pulling her out of the chair and towards her bed. “Bend over.”

“Jon?” she whimpered, the sound making his anger subside a little.

“I won’t take your maidenhead Sansa,” he assured her, cupping her cheek gently. “I just want to show you something.”

She bit her lip, casting her bed a nervous glance over her shoulder. “What are you going to do?”

“Bend over,” he repeated firmly, ignoring her command.

Ever obedient, she turned and did as he commanded. Jon’s lips twitched into a victorious smile at seeing her so pliant, so accommodating to his will. He took a moment to appreciate her in such a position, his mind jumping ahead to the not too distant future when she would be bent over his bed, moaning as he fucked her into the furs.

“Jon?” She turned her head to give him a curious look, snapping Jon out of his thoughts.

He stalked across the floor, resting a knee on the mattress beside her and letting his hand rest between her shoulder blades. Her muscles tensed slightly beneath his fingertips as he slowly stroked down her back until he felt her relax once more.

Her breath hitched as he patted her cheeks through her layers of clothing, her head turning to give a curious look over her shoulder. Jon could barely contain his own breathing, feeling the excitement raced through him as he slowly lifted her shift to reveal the white smallclothes, her last shield of modesty.

He couldn’t help but smirk at the fact she still wore white smallclothes, given how often he had spread her legs to let his fingers and tongue claim her, how often she had writhed and moaned more than any girl he had ever known, so eager to please as he encouraged her filthy, wanton behaviour.

She was going to be his, in every possible way. And it was time he reminded her of it.

He barely managed to cover her surprised squeak with his free hand as his other gave a light smack on the arse. Instantly, his cock throbbed at how she squirmed at the action, the familiar way her legs parted and her hips rocked ever so slightly. He knew she had liked it and was confused about it. It was just what Jon had been hoping for.

He brought his hand down again, a little harder this time and grinned as she gave him the same reaction. It spurred him on, bringing his hand down in quick succession, feeling Sansa’s muffled sounds of surprised, confused pleasure against the hand still covering her mouth.

He tugged her smallclothes down, appreciating the beautiful curve of her arse before he brought his hand down on the right cheek, hard enough to make it redden instantly. Sansa moaned softly, the heat on her face burning into his hand and Jon repeated the action on the other cheek, spurred on by her reaction.

He dipped his finger down, bumping against the puckered entrance. Sansa made a questionable sound and although Jon wanted to claim her here as well, he resisted the temptation. He still intended for his cock to be the first thing she felt inside of her. And he wanted her cunt first before he took her any other way.

Besides, it wasn’t what the point of the spanking had been, he was much more concerned about her body’s reaction. And, as his finger met with her wetness, a long groan escaped him. He had hoped she would grow wet from the spanking but he hadn’t anticipated her to be _this_ wet.

“See Sansa?” he murmured, moving his fingers up further until they pressed against her clit, a soft mewl her only response as her hips instantly started to grind down at his touch. “I make you feel so good. You love it, don’t you? Even when I spank you, you get wet and desperate for me. You’ll never be able to have anyone else do for you what I can.”

He stretched out beside her, watching her face as he continued to rub her with insistent, hard circles. She was breathing hard against his hand, her entire face flushed and the blue of her eyes disappeared to black as she canted her hips against his hand.

“Are you going to peak for me?” he whispered, groaning softly at the thought. He’ll never get tired of seeing her pleasure. “Are you?” he pressed, staring at her until she granted him a nod in answer. “That’s a good girl.”

Her head dipped submissively with a long, defeated moan as her body shook with her climax. Jon’s fingers stilled as she collapsed forward, still panting against the hand against her mouth. Jon rolled to his side, slinging a leg over the back of her own as he slowly started to move his fingers again.

A questionable sound escaped her then, her head rising ever so slightly and her legs already twitching with anticipation. Jon leaned forward, pressing his lips against the point where her neck met her shoulder, feeling her heart racing beneath his lips as he started to press harder against her clit.

It barely took a minute to throw her into another peak, only this time, Jon didn’t stop. And Sansa’s body was a slave to his touch, always desperate even as she made soft sounds of confusion at how she could still be going.

“I don’t need to marry you to know that you’re always going to want me to touch you Sansa,” he whispered as she collapsed into a sweating, panting mess after her fourth peak, her juices running down the back of Jon’s hand. “You’re mine now sweetheart.”

He removed the hand from her mouth but Sansa said nothing, her eyes closed in exhausted defeat, a soft protesting moan escaping her parted lips as he shifted his hand slightly. But Jon was done for now, withdrawing his hand.

Her eyes opened as he pressed his wet fingers to her lips, smearing them with her juices until they gleamed in firelight. After a brief second, she parted them and he pushed them into her mouth.

“All mine,” he groaned.

***

Ned’s voice called him in softly and Jon took a long breath before stepping inside his uncle’s solar. Catelyn spared him a disapproving look from where she sat by the fire, mending her husband’s shirt. Jon forced himself not to smirk at the fact she was going to hear this request.

“Jon, you said you had something important to discuss?” Ned said, resting his hands together and peering at him over his fingertips. Jon nodded, the perfected lie ready on his lips.

“It is about Sansa.”

Catelyn’s fingers paused, her head rising to fix him with a suspicious look. Ned blinked in surprise, no doubt trying to work out when Jon and Sansa had become so close. “Sansa?”

“She…” Jon trailed off. “She has become rather enamoured with me.”

“You filthy -”

“Catelyn,” Ned interrupted firmly, holding a hand up for silence though his eyes remained fixed on Jon. “Enamoured? Explain, Jon.”

“She…she said she wanted me to ask for her hand,” Jon replied, keeping his eyes on his uncle.

“You’re lying!” Catelyn hissed, standing up and flinging Ned’s shirt on to the chair. For a moment, Jon expected her to slap him. He wouldn’t even have been surprised if she pulled a knife from somewhere and stabbed him with it.

“I swear I am not,” he retorted coolly. “Ask her yourself.”

Ned sighed, running a hand over his face but it did nothing to hide his grimace. “Very well.”

He stood abruptly and Jon moved aside obediently. Catelyn glared at him as she walked past, following her husband’s long strides. Jon followed dutifully behind, keeping back a bit and ensuring his head remained bowed in mock shame.

Sansa’s voice chimed for them to enter when Ned knocked on the door but her smile was quickly replaced with confusion, her fingers halfway to her hair to take out the pins holding her tresses in the elaborate southern style she had come to prefer as she regarded them all in her mirror.

“Father?” she questioned, turning to face them. Her head tilting curiously to the side as they all piled into her room and Ned closed the door softly.

“Jon tells me that you wanted him to ask for your hand.”

Sansa blinked owlishly, her lips parting slightly.

“You…you really did it?” The smile that took over her face almost made Jon regret the decision he had made.

He knew that Ned would never allow him to marry Sansa. Beloved nephew as he was, he was still a bastard. Marrying her would only bring more questions and suspicions. Unless there was a good reason for marriage and revealing his parentage to the world.

“You…Sansa tell me you didn’t want to marry him,” Catelyn said, her voice cracking over the word marry. Sansa’s smile fell, a sudden realisation washing over her that her parents were not going to allow it to happen.

“I want to marry him,” Sansa replied. She stood quickly, grasping her father’s hands. “Father please, please let us be wed.”

“Sansa,” Ned started gently.

“I love him!” she cried desperately.

“Sweetling, listen to me!”

“I didn’t think he would ask but please father, I - ”

“Enough!” The sharpness of his tone made Sansa’s lip wobble with the bitter knowledge that he was not to be persuaded. She bowed her head with a choked sob. Ned sighed. “I know it feels like love now darling. But Jon is not the right match for you.”

“It is love!” Sansa insisted, shaking her head wildly in her desperation. “And if I marry him I could stay in the North, close to you all. Isn’t that what you wanted for us?”

“I thought you wanted to go south and marry a prince,” Catelyn said coldly, her eyes falling on Jon once more, who did his best to act as though he couldn’t feel her piercing stare.

“I did,” Sansa agreed. “But I don’t know Prince Joffrey at all. I’ve fallen in love with Jon and I want to marry him!”

“No,” Catelyn stated firmly. Sansa ignored her, her pleading eyes fixed on her father’s face. She knew her mother was never going to allow such a thing, it would have to be Ned that she convinced to allow the marriage.

“Father, please!”

“No,” Ned replied, as cold as Catelyn for a moment. This time, Sansa didn’t even attempt to hide her tears. Ned grimaced, his voice softer as he continued. “No, I think it is best to send ravens out for Jon to be fostered somewhere. Perhaps being separated will kill whatever infatuation has occurred here.”

“It is not an infatuation!” Sansa cried, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “I love him. And –“

“I will hear no more about it!” Ned replied sternly. He turned to Jon. “To your chambers Jon. Now.”

Jon nodded, head bowed in mock shame as he quickly obeyed, forcing himself not to meet Sansa’s tear-filled eyes.

***

When he walked into the hall to break his fast, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. Bran and Rickon merely looked around in confusion. Catelyn’s disapproving stare was nothing new of course, but to see Robb’s suspicious glare, Arya’s betrayed look and their father’s steely gaze unusually directed at Jon had given them pause.

Sansa was nowhere to be seen.

Jon swallowed the shame of what he had done, knowing she had likely been kept in her rooms and away from him for it.

He shouldn’t find it amusing really but the image of Catelyn’s wrath was as glorious as he had imagined.

“I have invited Robert to Winterfell,” Ned said after a moment. Jon’s hand paused above the plate of rolls before he gave a small nod of acceptance.

“She will be betrothed to the prince then?” he confirmed.

“Aye.”

“Good,” Jon lied smoothly. “It is what is best for her.”

Ned stared at him for a long moment. “Aye.”

“Sansa is leaving?” Rickon piped up, brow creasing in confusion.

“Not yet,” Ned said gently.

Not ever, Jon thought darkly. He had been lucky enough with Ned, to draw his suspicions away from him, to be nothing more than the good cousin concerned for Sansa’s well-being. As much as Jon admired and loved his uncle, he knew he was too trusting sometimes. And Jon intended to take advantage of it.

He was going to have Sansa in the end, no matter how long the games took.

“Robert is bringing Joffrey up here to meet her and she and I will travel south together with the King.”

“Is there any news about where I might go?” Jon enquired innocently.

“I haven’t sent any ravens out yet.”

“Perhaps I could go and squire for Lord Arryn?”

“He is in the capital. That is not an option for now.”

Jon nodded, accepting that the conversations was over and returned to his food.

He continued to eat his food, ignoring the constant looks from his siblings and Lady Catelyn’s glares. Afterward, he declared that he was going for a ride to the wolfs wood. Nobody said a word as he rose and left for the stables.

His intended target was there, the stable boy. Like many of the young men around Winterfell, the stable boy had noticed Sansa’s flowering beauty. Jon knew that his uncle had already caught the lad staring at Sansa’s chest as she mounted her horse. A sharp glare had quickly made the boy resume his work then but Jon knew that the boy was the perfect scapegoat for his plan.

He was sweeping the muck out of the door when he bobbed his head politely at Jon’s approach. Jon smirked at the unsuspecting lad.

“Listen boy,” Jon warned, watching the boy’s eyes widen at his aggressive tone. “You’ll meet me here tomorrow night, understand? And I’ll give you treasure that you can sell on the road and then you will fuck off, alright?”

“Milord? I don’t…why would I leave?”

“It’s either that or you’ll be killed. Well, perhaps you’ll only have your cock chopped off instead.”

The boy’s lip trembled. “W…why would…?”

“For deflowering Lady Sansa.”

“I didn’t!” the boy cried out and Jon growled, covering his mouth with his palm.

“Sansa will tell them that you did,” he warned. “I can get her to do it, trust me. You can stay if you want, attempt to tell them all of this. But sweet Sansa wouldn’t dare lie, would she? You know Lord Stark will believe her and think that you were just using the rumours about me and Sansa to get away with it.”

“I…I…of course I’ll do as you ask milord!”

“Good. I want you to continue obviously leering at Sansa when she is in your sight tomorrow attending the practice sessions. Make sure Robb or Lord Stark catches you. Hell, even Theon can catch you. I don’t care. Just get caught doing it.”

“Yes milord.”

“And you won’t tell a single person what I told you or I’ll cut it off myself.”

The boy nodded quickly and Jon withdrew.

“Good lad,” he muttered. “Ready my horse. I’ll be back shortly.”

The boy nodded, still shaking as he rushed to follow Jon’s command. Jon hurried back into the keep, taking fast strides along the corridors to Ned’s solar.

His uncle was not there, as he knew he wouldn’t be. Ned always went to pray after his morning meal. Jon still had plenty of time to do what he needed to do as he thrust open the drawer and took a sheet of paper out.

Dipping the quill in the pot, he started to write the letter he intended to leave on the desk. He was stating that he was going to White Harbour and taking a ship to the free cities. He made sure to write how terribly sorry he was for the distress caused to his family, that he wished Sansa well with her future where she would do so much better than him.

Taking another sheet of paper, he wrote another quick note and rolled it up once done a moment later. Peering out into the corridor, he sighed with relief when the coast was clear and he rushed through the halls to the bed chambers.

Jory raised his eyebrows when he approached and Jon held his hands up in surrender, the scroll hidden beneath his sleeve.

“Sorry lad, I’ve been told you can’t see her,” the guard commented sympathetically.

“I understand,” Jon said quickly. “But I just want to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye?”

“Aye, I told father I was leaving for the Essos. I may never make it back. Please, just a moment. You can leave the door open if you must. I won’t dishonour her.”

“No, I know,” Jory commented with a quick shake of his head. “The poor lass gets caught up in stories is all. Likely she saw you as the handsome, gallant young man you are and believed herself in love. Hopefully her prince will take her mind off such fantasies.”

“Exactly,” Jon lied smoothly, tilting his head expectantly towards the door.

“One moment,” Jory insisted as he unlocked the door and thankfully, stepped away from the door.

“Jon?” Sansa cried in disbelief, rushing bare-foot across the floor at the sight of him and throwing her arms around his neck.

“Shh, there isn’t much time,” he whispered, prying himself from her clutches. “Sansa, listen to me. I have a plan.”

“Father will agree?” she asked hopefully, her voice low as she clocked the still open door.

“You must agree to the match with Joffrey,” he insisted, hating how her face instantly fell and he hurriedly finished. “For appearances sake.”

“I don’t want to marry him!”

“You won’t marry him, I’ll not allow it,” Jon growled. “But you must pretend to comply with it. I’ve told father I’m leaving for the Free Cities but I will remain in the North and I will return to you tomorrow night.” He pressed the note into her hands quickly. “This has instructions on what to do.”

She frowned down at the crumpled piece of paper for a moment and he suddenly thought that perhaps she was having second thoughts before she looked up at him again and gave the briefest nod.

“It won’t be too long before I see you again, will it?”

“I promise,” he murmured, stealing a quick kiss from her tempting lips before he moved away. “Goodbye Sansa.”

He nodded a thanks to Jory before hurrying back down to the stables. The lad was shaking as he led Jon’s horse out, staring at the ground as Jon mounted.

“Remember what I told you lad,” Jon growled. “Say anything and Sansa will make sure your head rots on a spike, alright?”

“Yes milord,” the boy mumbled, nodding frantically even as he remained too scared to look up.

Satisfied that things were going to plan, he urged his horse into a light trot and left Winterfell behind. By tomorrow night, his plan to have Sansa for himself would finally begin.


End file.
